That’s how I remember the first year of so after becoming a Christian. I remember the great peace in knowing that God loved me and had some purpose for me being here. Coupled with that, I remember being confused. Had I just joined some cult? I understood why drinking too much was a bad thing, but never did “get” why you couldn’t play cards. It was, in fact, the only thing, other than watching TV, which my family really did together.
About six months after becoming a Christian, I found my way into a small Pentecostal church. My friend and I were the youth group. But it didn’t really matter, because what we both needed were fathers and mothers. I wasn’t aware of it then, but she came from an alcoholic family. My emotionally-abusive and neglectful family was outwardly less dramatic, but inwardly distressing to me.
In that small group of believers, we found men and women who became our spiritual parents. My friend drifted off from that group to another fellowship, but I stayed, primarily because of the spiritual mom and dad I had found. Looking back, they were far from perfect, but they managed to put something into my life that was missing.
Find out more of my story in the next post. Share yours in the comments below. Contact me if I can be of help.